Pausing allows me to find the peace I need to evolve inwardly.  By pausing I get out of the way and allow myself to trust in the slow work of God.

I am savoring the words from Sarah Bessey, from her new book “Field Notes from the Wilderness: Practices for an Evolving Faith”.  I read these words this morning:

“Look at you, in the midst of your uncertainty and unknowing, embarking on a journey you know will cost you so much, knowing you are saying farewell to the old versions of yourself, and offering this up to the world with hope and love, again and again, anyway. God, it’s beautiful.”

Nina spoke about one of the tools of pilgrimage being humility – the willingness to NOT know and the willingness to NOT stay in that spot! I believe Sarah’s words cheer us on as we humbly travel this road of uncertainty together!

My friend is 6’4” and has a stride that is twice mine. As we hit the trail together she remarked that she will start slow but almost as soon as she said that, the pace unapologetically quickened. My friend casually mentioned that if we need to slow down, I should just let her know. I internally responded with a “not a chance” even as I was unsure I would be able to keep up both physically with her pace and emotionally with what she needed to process.

At the end of the time I had broken a sweat, been present for my friend and relieved that I had been able to lean into all the at the walk involved.

Heading into this time with Journey of Hope I have had a sense of apprehension. Not sure what is ahead; not sure I can keep up with the pace; not sure I can bring all of who I am to the journey.

Our first season on zoom brought several moments of reassurance and encouraging hope.

In his teaching, Jer said the statement: “Jesus immerses Himself with us at the pace of a walk.”  That phrase: “at the pace of walk” has really stuck with me. In this season of Lent and holding the Ash Wednesday invitation to remember we are dust, the idea of Jesus joining me at my pace, in my brokenness, in my experience, has been comforting.

I hold this comfort while I also mull over the aspect of leadership that involves vulnerability and trust. I can be encouraged in thinking that Jesus won’t out-walk me and leave me in the dust. I can also expect and trust that Jesus will push the pace, increase my heart-rate, and take me to places on the journey that I couldn’t imagine.

The closing breath prayer that Osheta led us in was so fitting: “Prince of Peace, we will follow you.” We get to go on this journey. We get to travel together. We get to follow the Prince of Peace. What a gift.

As a teenager and as I moved into early adulthood I would classify myself as a conservative the most narrow sense, meaning that the values we used to have were under attack and we must protect them. This defensive posture meant I, as a person of faith, and the values I hold as part of that faith, are under deliberate attack by forces that want to strip society of any moorings or social values. I searched scripture, looking for examples and parallels to make my case. While I would not cite those examples publicly in terms of my politics, it was certainly there in my thoughts and motivations. 

To be clear, I do believe, firmly believe, that people of faith should and can bring their faith to the public square. My understanding of the nature of human beings, our rights and responsibilities on this earth, and where we are going are all deeply informed by my theology and faith. These are just as valid as any theory, philosophy, or understanding in the public square as motivation for how I want to operate in, and help to shape, society. What changed for me is that my faith became positive rather than negative. Rather than a defensive, fearful, and reactionary posture, I decided I wanted to take a constructive, faith-filled, and proactive posture to the world’s problems.

Since Dr. Gushee’s presentation I’ve felt both that I’ve been awakened to how ARC informed my development, but also very disoriented. First, I felt that Dr. Gushee’s framework puts words to ideas, concepts, and thoughts that have been bubbling around in my mind. White Christian Nationalism, as a concept, seemed too broad and vague. Authoritative Reactionary Christianity clarifies the political aims and tools of such a movement. ARC framing helps me to understand the reactionary fear that I’ve seen expressed by many in my faith community and helps me make sense of political patterns that seem so out of step with what I understand a follower of Jesus Christ to be. It has been a truly eye opening experience!

At the same time, I feel very disoriented. Or perhaps frustrated. There are elements of my personal and faith formation that are important to me that seem to be woven into ARC. Must I reject them? Can I hold them and reframe them? As an example, I do believe the United States plays a role in God’s plan for the redemption of His children. That role is very specific and narrowly defined in my view, and has less to do with the United States as a nation state than it does with the ideals supported by the American founding. Before these sessions I think I would have said I recognized the irony and the tragedy of a nation founded on the notion that “all men are committed equal” but that, nearly 250 years later, still can’t deliver on that ideal. However, after these sessions, I am realizing that it is more than just an ironic tragedy, but a serious and severe flaw in the structures we have built. The flaw continues and affects millions of individuals each and every day, for many of them it shapes every day of their life. 

I don’t know what to do next. My awakening leaves me feeling obligated to help awaken others, primarily through the way that I talk about and live my faith in today’s world. The disorienting feeling leaves me wondering how I can point to the language and concepts of authoritarianism in the name of Christianity that pervades the politics and, sadly, devotional lives of many in my faith community. 

In my late 40’s I went to university and trained to be teacher for children with profound and multiple disabilities and vision impairments. So, I am very comfortable with people who live with disabilities but when I go to church, I don’t see them there!  

Some thoughts from Ruth Patterson (Oneing 2022) resonated with me. Ruth speaks of a journey or pilgrimage, a crossing over. We don’t decide when it happens, it just happens. It happens as a result, of an experience, of some encounter and it’s always a gift. 

The Gift

I was a new teacher, transferred from mainstream school into special education. The class consisted of 12 children between the ages of 11 and 14. They were profoundly and multiply disabled and all in wheelchairs.  The lesson was: ‘Spiritual, Social and Moral Development.’ It wasn’t a lesson in the traditional sense, there were no textbooks, no desks and chairs, no children’s voices. There were vocalisations, but no recognised words. The floor was draped with soft floaty colourful materials, cushions and bean bags, battery operated candles, nature images projected onto white umbrellas, aroma-therapy oils and calming music.   

I took my place in the circle and sat on the floor alongside other adults.  I stabilised my back against the wall and waited as a child was lowered by hoist into my lap. His broken body lay limp in my arms. I had such a sense of the presence of God in that broken body that my mind went into the Gospel scene of Mary the mother of Jesus, receiving the broken and crucified body of her son into her arms.  

Children’s shoes, socks, and splints were removed and we began to massage the children’s hands and feet with Aromatherapy oil. My mind went to the Maundy Thursday Liturgy and the washing of the feet. There was a calmness and a stillness. And there was God among the weak, vulnerable and the broken. 

That was my crossing over moment, and I’ve been dissatisfied with the church ever since. Dissatisfied because part of the Body of Christ is missing on Sunday mornings. Dissatisfied because we are not providing a church / worship environment for all God’s children and families to come together to worship, to draw alongside each other to minister together.  

And so, reconciliation for me is linked to the church being reconciled and united with all her children living life with disabilities and waiting, out on the edges, for the church to provide accessible buildings, worships spaces and liturgies suitable for their varying physical, cognitive and sensory needs. The more I work to bring about this vision the more I become reconciled to my two halves of life. 

Image Source:

ttps://www.deviantart.com/lesya7/art/Two-halves-of-one-whole-150417172

As a child, most violence I observed was on television, but it still had an impact creating fears in ordinary everyday life.  I was 17 before I first visited Belfast, despite it being only 15 miles from our family home. Army patrols, security scares and bombed buildings became a regular reality as I journeyed into college in the early 1990’s. Bag checks, examining pockets for incendiary devices in shops and being on constant observation for suspicious activity was our cultural training. It’s only recently I realised how abnormal that was, but at the time it was ordinary life!

The mid 1990’s saw preparations towards the Peace agreement and from my memory, it was a very vulnerable time with a tense atmosphere of scepticism and fear. Upon reflection I realise how brave and hope filled the peace builders were, because speaking to the ‘other side’ provoked backlash and anger. Change didn’t come quickly either, it took many tiny steps building trust and belief in people and their communities that change could actually happen. Thankfully it did, and our country is very different for the children growing up today.

Yet what I have come to learn about reconciliation, is that peace can come to a community, but real change still must happen in the individual. I always prided myself, that I didn’t have the prejudice I saw in others. Yet, when I moved to England my eyes were opened to prejudices, I didn’t even know I had! In N.Ireland, I was a passive observer of the peace and reconciliation process, I enjoyed the benefits without the effort. But when I left the only environment I knew, life looked different. In England I encountered people from diverse cultures with beliefs and thinking different to my own. The world was bigger than Protestant and Catholic, and what looked like difference between the two, unexpectedly became very similar.

Through these experiences, I entered a personal journey of peace and reconciliation, and my life has changed so much. I currently belong to an Anglo-Catholic congregation in an ethnically diverse Parish, and when I go to Mass on Sunday morning, I smile at how God is continuing to change my heart and move me in a completely new direction, to places I would never have gone and be with people who are different to me.

In many ways, being in England has given me space from the cultural challenges of N.Ireland allowing me to reflect, reconsider and reconcile. But I recognise that the biggest challenge may be in the future when I return to my beloved Ireland, will I be a meaningful influence towards peace and reconciliation? I hope so. (Photo: St Patrick Statue, Slieve Patrick, Co.Down)

In one of our journalism classes, Judi introduced me to the framework of peace journalism and prompted me to think deeply about the role of stories in the work of reconciliation. She pointed out that most media outlets reflexively focus on conflict, because conflict gets attention. High-conflict drive readership — ultimately garnering the ad funding that fuels news outlets. But while conflict was profitable, Judi didn’t think it was always ethical. She invited my peers and me to consider other ways of framing stories.

“What if you focus on areas of overlap, or people who are bringing communities together or otherwise helping to negotiate conflict?” Judi asked us. “What if you cover people and initiatives that are the seeds of peace?” 

Judi’s teaching changed the way I saw the news around me. Her point about centering conflict was certainly true for coverage of warring groups and competing political candidates. I saw it in stories about a mosque planned for downtown Manhattan, and debates over environmental conservation restrictions. When I went on to intern at an NPR station, I realized just how much this two-sided, oppositional framing was baked into reporting. My manager would guide me on how to frame stories and who to interview: “Oh, there’s a new study about the dangers of indoor smoking? Call Joe for a quote, he’s the restaurant owner who’s been so outspoken against smoking bans.” 

My career path eventually steered away from journalism, but I still read the news with peace journalism in the back of my mind. This was especially true during the early 2010s as the Supreme Court heard a range of cases about same sex marriage. The news coverage typically featured Christians on one side, and LGBTQ advocates on the other. 

I recognized these mainstream stories had a void: people like me who are both queer and religious. Being both was so unthinkable that even I overlooked my religious identity much of the time. I never once saw an interview with a queer, religious voice speaking in favor of same sex marriage. I genuinely wondered, “How do other people in this intersection make sense of their spiritual lives?”

I eventually set out on a pilgrimage to interview LGBTQ people of faith about their religious lives. Those conversations have been transformative in their own way. Many people modeled a deep integration, and they have helped me to become reconciled within myself. I met people living out reconciliation and peacemaking work within their religious communities and denominations. I also saw the deep grief that people felt when they conceived of their sexuality or gender as incompatible with their religious lives, and could not be at peace with themselves or their communities. 

I continue to live in the imprint of those encounters. I carry their stories with me, and hear the wisdom that was whispered to me years ago. All of this richness is a legacy of Judi’s instruction to look at the spaces of unexpected overlap, and the reconciliation that may be happening there.

Fast-forward. We are now adults. I had returned to school to pursue my masters degree. My youngest brother had become the quintessential drug addict and had embraced the lifestyle—he was sleeping on the streets, was stealing food, was in and out of the hospital, was on the grid then he was off the grid. And our relationship was at an all time low. I was struggling to figure out how to interact with my baby brother. There was a nagging sense in me that he still deserved some type of honor, but I couldn’t locate a reason to show him another ounce of kindness, care or concern. 

As it came time to choose a thesis, I picked one with my little brother in mind. I wanted to imagine Jesus interacting with him on the corner of a busy street. My goal was to try to locate my brother’s basic human dignity. This paper rocked my world as I began to explore the concept of human dignity, which originates from God—not out of our own doing— and is of God because we are made in God’s own image and likeness. 

When I started my thesis, I was longing for a reason to honor my brother, despite his life choices. And when I submitted my thesis, I had come to believe that every person—including my brother—has a portion of God’s image or likeness in his or her being, and on that ground alone deserves to be honored even when respect has not been earned. 

This was the first big mile marker in my pursuit and experience of reconciliation. Through this process, I learned that my initial read on the world is not necessarily God’s perspective. This experience intrigued my imagination in regards to the reconciliation God can do in and through creation. 

Shortly after I submitted my thesis, my brother overdosed and died. There is not an easy sentence to summarize the grief of loosing a brother, but throughout my grieving process, I have been on the lookout for God’s image in the memories of my brother. And through this process, have been trained to look for the image of God in all humanity. What an incredible marker of value!

When this Journey of Hope pilgrimage first began, I felt an urgency to help move my church from here to there. I had anticipated this journey serving as a sort of guide to follow in order to accomplish something. If I do this, then my church will be this. I was nervous but hopeful. It wasn’t long before Jer helped me realize that this journey would be less about what I was to do and more about who I was to become. And still, I wasn’t quite sure what that would mean.

Here I am, months later. Our monthly Journey of Hope gatherings have ended. So many of my hopes from the beginning of this journey have been released. I now let go and surrender that which I had hoped to do, to mend, to achieve, to accomplish. As I let go, I sense something new, something unexpected.

My church is still hurting, and as difficult as it is to acknowledge, power and control are forces that are very much present there. We are still divided; perhaps even more than we were as I began the Journey of Hope, which is quite humbling because I now see that this journey is not about me. In fact, it’s not even about my church. This journey is about embracing the process of peacemaking and allowing the Spirit to bring life to the brokenness. It is about caring for myself and also helping others to care for themselves. It is about binding the wounds of others and also allowing them to bind my own wounds. It is about listening to the stories of others and also telling my own story. It is about allowing myself to have doubts and also to welcome the doubts of others. This journey is not just about who I must become as a leader, but it is about who we all must become in our pilgrimage together. And it is about finding peace in the mystery of it all.

I previously thought that at this point I would be setting down my pack, unlacing my boots, and resting after the completion of my journey. But here I am with boots still on and my pack still loaded. I’m tired, so I take a moment to care for myself. I bandage my blisters, have a bite to eat, and take a sip of water. And then, I keep going. I take my next step, and then my next. And I smile knowing that I am not alone on this journey. I never was alone.

Image Source: https://www.realsimple.com/health/fitness-exercise/hiking-benefits

The answer to this pressing question seems more distant to me right now. Rather than moving on this pilgrimage toward “the vulnerability of community,” it feels like my church congregation is suddenly and painfully falling apart at the hands of fear, control, and the failure to see the image of God in one another. And yet, today I feel peace. I don’t know exactly why, but I choose to slow down, be still in this peace, and receive it as the gift that it is. I wonder how many times I have rushed right past gifts such as this one in my eagerness to “arrive” somewhere or to “accomplish” something in my peacemaking journey. Today, I slow down.

In Module 3 of Journey of Hope, we explored what it looks like to move from interfaith dialogue to interfaith peacemaking. Today’s leg of our pilgrimage began with Maha Elgenaidi, a Muslim woman who is dedicated to the work of combating Islamophobia. I have studied Islam and Christian-Muslim interfaith relationships before, but while listening to Maha, I was struck by the reality that we will not overcome Islamophobia until we address anti-Blackness, and that we are struggling with the current racism problem because of the white-centric way in which history is taught. Next, Sikh advocate, Gurwin Ahuja discussed the importance of recognizing our common humanity over any of our religious differences, as well as the need for us to hold space for open conversation and potential disagreement. Finally, mediator and Anglican Priest Liz Griffiths highlighted the importance of engaging in interfaith dialogue with curiosity rather than assumptions.

After today’s leg of our peacemaking pilgrimage, I am struck with the somewhat uncomfortable realization that I am learning more about what it looks like to follow Jesus from these non-Christian leaders than from my own faith community at this time. I see these faith leaders, as well as my own Muslim friends, reflecting the love and mission of Jesus more than I see from many Christians right now. And with that realization, I feel a refreshing sense of freedom to engage with, listen to, walk with, and learn from people of other faiths where I may have felt a hesitation before. I recognize the liberating love of Jesus which is big enough to embrace all of humanity. This is a freedom I hope my own church congregation can experience. And so, our journey continues.

Image Source: https://www.happify.com/hd/how-to-slow-down-time/

On this first day of the Journey of Hope, Bart Tarman shared a bit of his sacred experience walking El Camino de Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Bart explained that this journey was both physically and mentally challenging, for he had chosen to put himself in an uncomfortable experience of dislocation. Gradually, he found himself leaving the missional mindset of needing to do things, and the slow, steady pace of his walk allowed him to catch up with God and even to catch up with himself. Is this what the Journey of Hope pilgrimage would be for me? For us? How do I reconcile this tension between slowing down to catch up with God and the urgency of the suffering that is taking place now?

After our initial gathering with the Journey of Hope cohort, I met with Jer Swigart for a time of reflection and processing. I shared with Jer my struggle with how to help my church that is very comfortable in its whiteness become a church that sees the suffering in our community and works to disrupt systems that cause that suffering. And then, Jer asked me, “Yes, and who must you become as a leader to help navigate this shift?” Who must I become? All this time, my focus has been on trying to get my church to change, but I had failed to recognize the change that needed to take place within myself. 

So, I tie the laces on my hiking boots, lift my heavy pack upon my back, and I begin to walk. I do not know the destination of this Journey of Hope pilgrimage, but I look forward to following Jesus on the way.

Image Source: https://www.cnn.com/2021/10/27/cnn-underscored/best-hiking-boots/index.html